


still a little bit of your words i long to hear

by celeste9



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Banter, Clothed Sex, Cunnilingus, Face-Sitting, First Time, Multi, Porn with Feelings, Sort Of, Threesome - F/F/M, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:13:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27075535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celeste9/pseuds/celeste9
Summary: The truth is Angelica knows she must have a wealthy husband but she does not want one. She wants Eliza and Alexander, and of course she cannot have them.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Angelica Schuyler/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler
Kudos: 18





	still a little bit of your words i long to hear

**Author's Note:**

> IDK how this is the first Hamilton fic I decided to write, but here we are. I struggled with what sort of speech patterns to use so this is some kind of bastardization of the more modern tone of the play (minus the use of verse, obviously, because no one would want to see me attempt that) and something more historically based (forgive me, I find American history interesting but it is not my field). Title from Vienna Teng.
> 
> I'm not sure exactly what people like to be warned about so for the record, Angelica is a virgin in this but it's not really made much of within the story, and there are penises in vaginas without protection because to my knowledge colonial Americans didn't really use any but there's no coming inside.

Angelica toasts Eliza and Alexander with genuine love in her heart, but she also can’t deny the wistful envy she feels as she kisses Eliza’s cheek and watches her leave with her new husband. Alexander is rolling his eyes and grinning as the boys tease him, but his look is soft and fond when he takes Eliza by the waist to lead her off.

Angelica has another glass of wine and sleeps alone.

When she meets Eliza for dinner the following day, she is pleased by how relaxed her sister appears, by how quietly contented she looks, by the warmth in her expression. Wedded bliss suits her, it seems, and Angelica is glad of it.

She can’t resist a bit of prodding as to how much, of course. Simple curiosity, sisterly affection, and, yes, a bit of vicariousness, to be sure. She says, “You look less than well rested, Eliza, though perhaps that is to be desired?”

Eliza blushes, which is sweet and not entirely unexpected.

Angelica prompts, “May I take the color in your cheeks as evidence that our dear Alexander is entirely satisfactory in his new duties as husband?”

The blush deepens and Eliza’s gasped, “Angelica!” is half a nervous giggle. But she adds, “More than satisfactory.”

Angelica’s smile is wide and delighted. “I suppose I should have assumed he would have a talented tongue, for more than simply speech.”

Though for a moment Eliza looks shocked to the core, she then collapses into laughter. When she recovers her breath enough to speak, she says, “You are wicked, my dearest sister, but I must… I didn’t… I wasn’t aware such a thing was done,” she finishes in a hushed whisper.

Best not to wonder whether Alexander had known in theory or in practice, or where he might have practiced. Arching an eyebrow, Angelica says, “Well, I suppose polite company wouldn’t speak of it but I am not polite company, after all, and I am glad to know your husband has so thoroughly educated you.”

“Very well and very thoroughly,” Eliza admits, and they both laugh.

Then Angelica rests her hand on Eliza’s and Eliza turns her palm up so they are grasping hands. “I hope you know, sister, that I am truly happy that _you_ are happy.”

Eliza’s eyes are too kind and too knowing, and Angelica knows that she knows, she must know. She knows that it is beyond jokes and teasing, she knows that… And Eliza would have stepped aside, which is why Angelica had to.

“I would like for you to be as happy as I am,” Eliza says, and Angelica squeezes her hand tighter. She trusts herself to say nothing for Eliza would not believe her, and so she keeps her silence. They lean their heads together, and it is enough.

-

When Angelica sees Alexander, outside in the street as she leaves Eliza, his eyes are bright and cheerful and he offers Angelica his arm. “My dear Angelica, you look lovely. I’m glad to have caught you, even if you are on your way out. Shall we take a stroll in the sunlight?”

She accepts and says, “The sun makes the air seem less chilled, don’t you think so?”

“I’m afraid I have no fondness for your northern winters,” he admits. “Though indeed I’ve spent worse days.”

And is likely to spend worse, Angelica knows, though she does not wish to say so. Better to think of hopeful things, and be glad while Alexander is with them. “Well, I will warm you,” she says.

Alexander’s smile is small and tinged with something unspoken; Angelica curses herself and thinks she should have spoken of Eliza. It feels somehow callous to flirt with him still now that he is her sister’s husband, but she cannot quench what is in her heart no matter how she wishes to.

To chase away the moment, she says, “Perhaps you should call me sister now, Alexander.”

He frowns. “The word doesn’t fall easily from the tongue, does it?”

“That would be for you to tell me.”

“I should like to go on as we have been, and for you to remain my dearest Angelica,” he says, and Angelica finds herself amused.

He is sly, her Alexander, sly and charming. Eliza and her large guileless heart will never see it.

So Angelica must not be charmed by him. “I shouldn’t keep you,” she says, and carefully disentangles her arm from his. “Your new wife will be pleased to see you.”

His beautiful eyes tell Angelica clearly that he is well aware what she’s doing. He says, “More pleased than I deserve, I’m sure.” Before she quite understands, he adds, “I believe it’s only right to have a kiss for my sister,” and kisses her cheek.

Angelica tries hard to scowl and fails; a tiny smirk ghosts across Alexander’s face. “You think yourself too smart for your own good,” she says, and bids him good day.

She wishes she could say she didn’t think about the sensation of his lips on her skin.

-

Following the wedding, Alexander takes leave from his military service for several weeks. He and Eliza settle into their own house and from Eliza’s glowing expression whenever Angelica sees her, she knows truly that they are taking to their new life together well. Alexander’s correspondence with the general, with his fellow soldiers, and with Congress never ceases but then, Angelica knows that was only to be expected. There is only so far Alexander can bear to remove himself from his duty, no matter his personal situation.

She dines with them frequently and finds her sense of envy sits at a quiet simmer, overtaken by her joy at both their obvious contentment and their company. Eliza smiles widely and frequently, lighting up her beautiful face, and Angelica feels warmth bloom within her when she watches their easy, gentle intimacy, affection so freely given. Eliza circles her arm around Alexander’s waist, her palm resting on his hip, and Alexander presses kisses to the side of her face. Angelica watches them with indulgence, and there is an odd moment when she wonders whom she is more jealous of.

But they both love her, too, and that is never in doubt. Eliza always makes time for her and they sit together as they were wont to do as girls, talking and laughing, heads bent near to each other and their thighs pressed close as can be beneath their skirts. Alexander drops kisses to her knuckles and that makes heat flood through her as it did when they met.

At night in her bed she sees their dark eyes, wonders how it would be to catch their full, enraptured attention. She remembers the feel of Alexander’s lips on her cheek and imagines his mouth sliding elsewhere; she thinks of Eliza’s hands around her waist, sneaking up her skirts.

“Angelica,” she mutters aloud, cursing herself. She is a fool and these idle fantasies are worse than foolish; they are disgraceful. She can have neither and certainly not both, and that is as God wills it.

“Really, Angelica,” she says to herself, for saying it in the quiet of her room makes real just how ridiculous her musings are. “Not only your sister’s husband but your sister as well?”

She must find her wealthy husband. That will put a stop to this, surely. She is merely lonely, and envious, and she must give Alexander up. She tells herself she did not want him when she could have had him, after all, so dreaming this way is silly. It is only the strange workings of the mind that bring these thoughts to the surface, misplaced jealousy and desire and love.

She may wonder but she cannot truly want such a thing. She cannot.

She must give Alexander up, and perhaps more difficult, she must give her sister up. No longer can Angelica be most important to her. Eliza has her husband, and Angelica must leave her to him.

She will.

-

She does, after a fashion. She attempts to give Eliza her space, to give her time alone with Alexander, to not go to Eliza first when she has news, when she hears something worth repeating, when she needs help or an ear willing to listen.

The problem is that Eliza seems less than eager for Angelica to take a step back out of her life. When Angelica doesn’t come to call, Eliza calls on her. She continues to extend invitations to dinner and to supper and of course once asked, Angelica finds it impossible to refuse. Eliza even asks Angelica along when she and Alexander go for walks in the park on nicer days. Eliza links her arm through Angelica’s and they laugh and whisper together as they did when they were girls, while Alexander watches with contented warmth and sometimes joins in. He walks just ahead, or just behind, or he takes Eliza’s other arm. At times he even takes Angelica’s, and Angelica wonders that anyone should be so lucky or happy as this.

In those moments it seems very simple. Angelica, Eliza, and Alexander, as they should be. But when they part ways, when Eliza kisses her cheeks and Alexander her knuckles, when Angelica returns home alone, she remembers that they are not three. They are a wedded couple and their sister, beloved but separate, and Angelica should be drawing back for their sake and for her own.

Only it seems more difficult than it should be, and she finds that Eliza smiles more when she doesn’t try, and so Angelica tries less and less.

-

Angelica is nearly finished with a letter to her aunt but Eliza has been hovering over the same stitch in her embroidery for the past several minutes. Her eyes are focused out the window, where the sun shines in and the view of the garden is still rather lovely in spite of the winter month, but her expression is pensive and Angelica doubts she is enjoying it. She readies herself to inquire as to what is troubling her but finds she doesn’t need to.

Eliza stands and makes her way over to Angelica, sitting beside her. She takes some moments to smooth her skirts. “May I confide in you, Angelica?”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

Eliza’s smile is gentle and fond but it fades too quickly. “I think… I don’t wish to say that I’m not happy, because of course that isn’t true; I am indeed very content, and happier than any person has a right to be. But Alexander…”

When Eliza trails off, she looks away toward the window, and Angelica thinks she knows what her sister finds so difficult to verbalize. “He wants a great many things, and will work to get them,” she says.

Eliza’s face brightens as she turns back. “Yes! And I don’t mean to imply that’s wrong, or that I didn’t know. He is ambitious.”

“Indeed.” It is nearly an understatement.

“And when he is here, he is…” Eliza colors. “When he is with me, privately, he is fervently devoted, and I feel as though I am the only one who will ever matter. But then he returns to his writings and his books and to the general, and I wonder that I will never be enough. You see?”

Angelica is afraid she does, and she is sorry Eliza grew to know it so soon. They have barely been married. But then, Eliza is trusting and good-hearted but she is no fool.

“Do you wish him to be less… devoted to his other pursuits?” Angelica asks carefully. “To the revolution?”

“No!” Eliza says immediately, then hesitates. “No. Then he would not be the man I love. I only wish I were enough.” She shakes her head. “Oh, ignore me, I’m being silly. I only miss him, you see. Soon I know he will be away from me more than he is with me.”

That is probably so, Angelica thinks. They have been lucky to have Alexander’s company for these past weeks but the war will call him back soon enough. It is possible Alexander may be able to call for Eliza to stay near to him, perhaps to join Martha Washington in aiding the soldiers, but it is best not to hope for such a thing when it may not come to pass, or may not for some time. The winter months are cruelest and it may not be prudent, or Alexander may not wish to subject Eliza to discomfort.

Angelica squeezes her sister’s hand. “You are far from silly, Eliza. Take comfort in the knowledge that Alexander writes beautiful letters,” she says, and Eliza laughs.

-

Alexander does write beautiful letters and Angelica knows because she has read them. She has sat with Eliza and Peggy giggling over them, while Eliza flushed with pleasure and self-conscious embarrassment both at his pretty – and sometimes exceedingly bold – words.

She knows also because Alexander has written her, too. Not quite so bold but certainly no less pretty. He is as much of a flirt with a pen as he is with his mouth. Angelica perhaps treasures his letters rather more than she should.

She looks at the way he has transcribed “my dearest Angelica” on the page, the loops of his handwriting, and remembers the moment she first saw him, the way her eyes caught his across the ballroom, the way he kissed her knuckles, and thinks, _you could have had him, he could be yours._

But always she comes back to the way her sister smiles and thinks it’s better this way. Eliza is happy, and she will be happier living in poverty, or near to it, should Alexander’s ambitions never come to fruition the way he dreams than Angelica ever would be. She could have been his partner, aiding him in his pursuits, but she thinks she could not be his firm, unwavering support in quite the way Eliza will no doubt be.

But Angelica hopes that Alexander will write her, too, when he is far from the comforts of home, far from her sister’s bed. She wonders, will he be more open and honest with her than with her sister, as she finds he sometimes is? Will he share the fears and struggles he wishes not to burden Eliza with, the pains he does not want Eliza to know? Angelica longs to be his confidante, to not only share the intelligent workings of his mind but also the inner cares of his heart; she longs to comfort him, as she knows she will comfort Eliza, to write a balm for his soul before she goes to hold Eliza in the way she will not be able to hold Alexander.

That may be selfish, she thinks, but she has never claimed she is not.

-

They attend a ball, not quite so extravagant as her father’s, where they met Alexander, but Angelica has no lack of eligible and not so eligible men vying for her attention. Eliza watches with the same bemusement she always has but Alexander’s calculating expression from the side of the room is more difficult to place.

They dance together once, light steps and careful hand holds, Alexander spinning her gracefully, but he is flirting, not talking of anything of substance. Angelica meets his game of wit but doesn’t encourage him closer, and when the music ends he returns to his wife. She carefully avoids observing how handsome he is in his uniform, or how fine he and Eliza look together.

Angelica dines with the Hamiltons the following evening for supper, noting with amusement the way Eliza must drag Alexander from his work. She teases him lightly, saying, “You would starve without me, Alexander. Words, to your great misfortune, are not sustenance.”

“Indeed not,” he agrees, “but I have my lovely Eliza so I will survive.”

“You see what I must struggle with?” Eliza says to Angelica, though she looks more fond than annoyed after Alexander has brought her hands to his lips.

“I seem to recall warning you,” Angelica says, and Alexander takes sudden notice.

“Of me?” he says, seeming half in mock outrage and half genuine curiosity. “And what might you have thought needed a warning?”

“Alexander, if you can’t guess then you know me very little.”

Eliza laughs in delight while Alexander looks a bit put out, but he cheers quickly and they pass an enjoyable meal. They retire together afterwards, Eliza sitting beside Alexander on the sofa while Angelica seats herself in a chair she often reads in when she spends time with Eliza. Their house is modest, certainly when compared to the Schuyler residence, but Eliza has clearly taken significant effort in creating a warm, elegant home nonetheless given Alexander’s limited means. Angelica knows that Eliza had money from their father to aid her, and that Alexander’s pride bristles and yet he wishes for her to have what she desires.

Angelica knows that it was not chance they met, nor that Alexander spent most of that night dancing with a Schuyler sister. She knows there was calculation in it, that he desired the status their family would give him. She also knows of his insecurities for he keeps very little hidden, and Eliza has always shared most of his letters with her. She knows he fears – with precious little cause – that Eliza will not be content to be a poor man’s wife, regardless of the ample proof he has been given otherwise.

But then, that is Alexander, arrogant and insecure in roughly equal measure, and for whatever reason, Angelica finds it a dear, charming mix.

Now he is saying, “You danced all night but not one of those men was worth your time.”

“Not one?” Angelica arches her eyebrow. “Not even the dark-eyed one I danced a minuet with? He had particularly lovely calves, I thought.”

He waves his hand, not even acknowledging the teasing compliment. “Not even him, for he has already been passed over and made very happy elsewhere.” Alexander says this with a kiss to Eliza’s fingertips.

Angelica shrugs. “Well, several of them were quite rich.”

“With not one ounce of wit between them.”

“I don’t need them to be witty, only to keep me in comfort.”

“Oh, Angelica,” Eliza says, frowning. “You would be so terribly bored.”

“That’s what I have you for,” Angelica says, prompting her sister to smile, if slightly exasperatedly.

“It won’t do,” Alexander insists. “If you must be married, he must be worthy of you.”

“Shall I send my suitors to vie for your approval then?”

“That would be acceptable.”

Angelica laughs. “I will be a spinster before you find someone.”

Alexander’s expression suggests he doesn’t see a problem with that. He is rubbing his thumb over the back of Eliza’s hand where it rests on his knee. “You can always live with us.”

“And be trod on by the horde of future children you’ll inevitably have? Sounds lovely.” In actuality, it doesn’t sound so bad, but Angelica can’t say that.

“I’m sure they would learn to step lightly around their Aunt Angelica,” Eliza says, warmth in her eyes as though she finds the imagining pleasing.

If only, Angelica thinks. If only it were so simple.

As her mind wanders, she notices that Eliza and Angelica seem to have forgotten her presence. Alexander is murmuring low into Eliza’s ear and by the distinct rose-tinged blush in her cheeks, Angelica can guess the nature of his whisperings. But as he speaks to his wife, his eyes catch Angelica’s and hold her gaze, his dark, intelligent eyes glued to hers. She thinks to look away but only manages to look towards her sister, who looks back with a small smile touching her mouth.

Angelica is so warm she thinks she might burn up.

When she retires to her bed that night, her mind lingers on Alexander’s eyes, Eliza’s smile. She thinks of how it would be to be with them, how it would feel, and finds it more difficult than before to dismiss.

How she would love to have a place in their home, but not only as spinster Aunt Angelica.

-

Angelica knows better. She knows _better._ There is no future in these fanciful dreams of hers and it isn’t healthy or purposeful to continue entertaining them. It is past time she stops.

She doesn’t.

It doesn’t help that she lacks the strength to cease spending so much time with the Hamiltons, nor that they continue on as they have always been, warm and welcoming and affectionate, Alexander flirting, Eliza holding her close. The truth is Angelica knows she must have a wealthy husband but she does not want one.

She wants Eliza and Alexander, and of course she cannot have them.

The day draws near when Alexander will return to General Washington and they can all sense it looming. Eliza and Angelica have both knitted him several pairs of warm woolen socks, and mittens for his hands. Angelica wonders if he will wear them, for he will not be able to write while he does, but hopes he will have the sense to endeavor to keep his fingers. It keeps them busy, and makes them feel at least a tiny bit useful. Even so, Eliza grows more pensive, Alexander buries himself in his writing, and Angelica hates the powerless feeling that threatens to consume her. If she could she would be at Washington’s side herself, fighting for their freedom, so she does not begrudge Alexander his dedication, but the fear for him is already creeping in. Eliza’s fear is almost tangible. Angelica does not know how to comfort her, and indeed she does not even broach the subject.

None of them speak of it, but the knowledge weighs them down nevertheless.

Angelica dines with them and there is a strange mood enveloping the table. Eliza’s eyes are brighter than they have been and so Alexander is more exuberantly cheerful. Angelica follows their cue as she observes them, unsure how much is an act. They speak of little of note and then retire to play cards, until the darkness stretches and Angelica wonders if she should leave.

It is a shock, then, when Eliza sets down her cards and says, “I’ve seen the way you look at my sister, Alexander.”

There is a moment of silence and then, “Eliza,” Angelica and Alexander both say, and Angelica is certain he must be as horrified as she is. She has been callous and cruel and she should have stopped; she should have stopped.

Alexander isn’t hers, and neither is Eliza.

“I don’t mean it as an admonishment, though once I might have. I simply mean…” Eliza gnaws briefly at her lip. “I know you love my sister, as you love me.”

Before Alexander has a chance to speak, for she is sure he will not help the situation, Angelica interjects, “Loves me, yes, but not in the same way.”

Eliza’s gaze holds a note of disappointment in it. “I may not be a match for either of you, but do not think me a fool, or treat me as one.”

Shamed, Angelica can’t do anything but drop her eyes.

“I married you, Eliza,” Alexander says, as though that forgives all.

“Yes,” Eliza says before he can go on. “Never doubt how glad that has made me. But Alexander, I know the man I married. I know who you are, and that the revolution will call you away.”

“I don’t believe I ever kept my intentions a secret. Indeed I have been very transparent.”

“I know you won’t stay and I won’t ask you to. I know you must go. But I would like to give you a reason to come home.”

“Eliza, I have a reason.” Alexander reaches his hand across the table, scattering cards, to clasp Eliza’s. “You are my reason.”

“I know,” Eliza says, as Angelica wonders how they have gone from her transgressions with Alexander to this. Can it have been forgotten so easily? “My dearest, I know. But is it wrong to desire to give you the most compelling reason I can, to give you a memory to keep you warm when you’re far from our bed?”

“I have many memories to keep me warm on even the coldest of nights,” Alexander declares, and indeed there is heat in his dark, dark eyes.

“Then you won’t object to having one more.”

Though she feels oddly compelled to stay, Angelica knows it is past time for her to take her leave. “The hour grows late, and it is time for private things, I’m sure,” she says as she rises, and both Eliza and Alexander turn to her so that she is caught with the double force of their attention.

“Eliza,” Alexander says as he still looks to Angelica.

“Yes,” Eliza responds, and Angelica feels suddenly certain that they have arrived at an unspoken agreement she is not privy to.

“Best of wives and best of women,” he says, affection suffusing his voice, his eyes flicking away from Angelica for long enough to press a kiss to the corner of Eliza’s mouth.

Then Eliza stands and walks around the table to Angelica, taking her hands. “My sister, my love,” she says, her eyes intent. “Will you not stay with us and be happy?”

Angelica’s voice sticks in her throat for Eliza can’t mean what she seems to mean, surely she can’t. Yet when she searches Eliza’s face, it seems clear that she does.

Eliza means for them _all_ to be…

“Don’t do this for me,” Angelica pleads because she could not bear it if Eliza were to think… if Eliza were to make sacrifices for her, if she were to encourage this only because of her, for her and Alexander.

“It is for us,” Eliza says. She holds Angelica’s hand to her lips and kisses it. “There is no one in this life I love more than my sister and my husband. All I want is for us to be happy.”

“Eliza,” Angelica whispers, and she cannot, she cannot.

Eliza is so close. She smells of jasmine and Angelica doesn’t know what to do with the urge to bury her face in the front of her sister’s dress, to breathe in her skin. “You are always ten steps ahead. For once let me make it right for you, for all three of us.”

There is no conscious decision, no moment of giving in; there is only the instant Angelica hears herself sighing “yes,” and then there is only Eliza. Eliza’s lips are softer than Angelica could have dreamed possible and she wants to never pull away. Does one really need to breathe? She thinks all she needs to survive is Eliza’s mouth on hers.

When they do separate, Angelica leans her forehead down to press to Eliza’s, quietly catching her breath, trying to slow her racing heart. She waits for shame to settle in but she is not ashamed; she only feels right. It feels inevitable, to be here with her sister, whom she loves more than her own life.

“He waits, but not much longer, I expect,” Eliza murmurs, and Angelica drops a kiss to the tip of her nose before she turns to look at Alexander.

Alexander looks fit to burst, like he can’t believe his own luck, and Angelica can’t believe he has managed to keep quiet.

“Does it feel like your birthday, Alexander?” Angelica asks, Eliza pressed to her side as they stand with their arms around each other.

He is grinning. “I’ve never had a birthday as good as this.”

Eliza laughs and Angelica loves the sound of it. “I’m glad we are better than any gift.”

“Nothing can compare,” Alexander assures her and steps closer. “Though I confess I tire of waiting my turn.”

“You always lack patience, my love.”

“I think I’ve been more patient than any man could be expected to be in such a situation.”

Eliza hums and squeezes Angelica’s waist tighter. “What do you think, sister? Shall we indulge him?”

Angelica pretends to consider though there is nothing she wants more than to discover how Alexander tastes. “He has shown more restraint than I would have thought. Perhaps we should show him some kindness.”

“Ah, well, if you think so,” Eliza says, and extends her hand to Alexander. “Husband, come kiss my sister. I should like to watch.”

A flare of desire bursts in Angelica’s insides at Eliza’s words but there is still a moment as Alexander approaches that she thinks, no, no, she can’t, this could go so terribly wrong. Then Alexander’s mouth is on hers and her hand is in his hair and all she can think is, _yes, yes, yes._

Angelica sighs into his mouth and hears the pleased sound Eliza makes near her ear. Alexander’s tongue brushes her lip and she nearly gasps, drawing back for a breath. His eyes flutter back open and she blinks, never having seen them so close. He smiles slowly, looking at her more softly than he ever has before, and Angelica has a strange urge to pinch herself.

“Was it as good as you hoped?” Alexander asks.

Angelica wonders for a second if she is meant to answer and thinks to be a bit sharp in her reply, chiding his smugness, but then Eliza answers and she realizes he wasn’t addressing her at all.

“Quite lovely,” Eliza says, and then she is pressing between them, her hand on Alexander’s cheek to turn his face towards hers, her hair brushing Angelica’s face as she kisses him. Angelica can’t find it in herself to move back.

They trade kisses between them and it is intoxicating; Angelica loses track of whose hand drifts down the side of her neck, whose teeth nip lightly above the collar of her dress, whose soft hair trails over her skin. Eventually Eliza says, “Let’s go to bed,” and Angelica feels Alexander’s eager nod against her cheek.

“Yes,” he says, “let’s.” His hair is falling loose from its carefully tied ribbon and Angelica thinks she is at least partly to blame for that; she had been unable to resist testing its softness.

Eliza notices this too and smiles; she pulls the ribbon from his hair entirely to let it tumble around his face. Alexander half raises one eyebrow and Angelica has the sense that this is a common ritual. “He enjoys having it tugged on,” Eliza says, and Alexander’s eyebrow arches higher.

“Not as much as she enjoys doing so.” He holds his hand to Angelica, and she thinks how lovely his wrists are from within the lace of his cuffs, how elegant his fingers, long and ink-stained.

_Stop it,_ she chides herself. _You are ridiculous._ But she feels half giddy with the thrill of what has happened, with the promise of what is still to come, and perhaps she is allowed a bit of silliness.

Angelica passes over his offered hand to pull on the ends of his hair instead and is rewarded both by his gasp and fluttering eyelashes and Eliza’s delighted laugh.

“Oh, I see how this will be,” Alexander says, his annoyance clearly feigned. He withdraws his hand and Angelica takes Eliza’s instead.

“Yes, you do,” Eliza says, and smiles so sweetly at Angelica before they walk to the bedroom together, Alexander’s light footsteps behind them. Angelica marvels at how confident her shy sister is tonight, how secure in what she wants, and feels somehow flattered that she is so desired, that Eliza is so comfortable with her, with her and Alexander, to be so unafraid of being open. Normally it is Angelica who glides through with the utmost confidence, but she finds she is slightly uncertain of her steps tonight.

Angelica has not actually seen their bedroom before and she pauses inside the doorway, her eyes on the bed, wondering if they will all fit, a wave of, _what are we doing, is this happening,_ passing over her. Eliza seems to sense her shifting mood and kisses her softly until she relaxes again, fingers deftly opening her gown. Alexander moves behind her and kisses her neck as Eliza helps pulls the dress down, and Angelica laughs a little at the awkwardness of stepping out of it. They follow suit with Eliza, until both women are standing in corsets and petticoats, just colder than is exactly comfortable. Angelica and Eliza have helped each other undress so many times over the years, but it has never felt quite like this.

“It seems hardly fair that you are still completely dressed,” Angelica points out to Alexander, as he sweeps Eliza’s hair back to press a kiss to her shoulder.

He is speaking mostly into her skin, Eliza tilting her head away to give him freer reign. “I have fewer layers to remove. I wanted to give you a start first.”

“I see.” Angelica hums and tries to catch Eliza’s eyes, but her sister is rather preoccupied by Alexander’s attentions. Instead, Alexander looks up at her from beneath his eyelashes, his hands firmly on Eliza’s waist. They share a meaningful look and she knows without words that their minds are in exactly the same place. This is about Eliza.

It is by Eliza’s wish that they are here, together, and if Eliza isn’t happy, they aren’t happy.

Finally Eliza’s eyes drift open and she looks to Angelica. Angelica nods her head and attempts to indicate her intention, pleased when Eliza lights up mischievously. She sets her hands over Alexander’s on her waist then spins in his grip until they are facing, while Alexander blinks in slow confusion.

“You have many buttons,” she says, and starts on his waistcoat. “Let me help you.”

Angelica slides behind him to slip his coat over his shoulders and Alexander seems uncertain for a moment before he grins and let them have his way. “By all means,” he says, and soon is down to his breeches and shirt, while Angelica carefully unties his cravat. She cannot help herself from kissing the skin she reveals, mouthing at his neck, and feels him shudder.

“Ah, yes, I see you will both continue to use me,” he says, though if he means to sound grieved he has failed.

“Didn’t we say so?” Eliza leans in to kiss the hollow of his throat and makes a mew of surprise when Alexander grabs her wrists and holds her so Angelica can rid her of her second petticoat before unlacing her stays. She loosens the laces slowly, slowly, more slowly than she ever has before, giving herself a chance to take control of herself even as she feels anticipation build at each tiny catch of Eliza’s breath. When she removes the first petticoat, Eliza stands there in only her shift and Angelica can’t not spread her hands over Eliza’s hips, can’t not press her forehead to the back of Eliza’s shoulder.

“Beloved,” Eliza murmurs, twining her fingers with Angelica’s. She steps out of her shoes and crouches down to take Angelica’s off. She leads her to the bed, crawls backwards on it and pulls Angelica with her, her petticoats bunching as she lays over Eliza, and they kiss.

Angelica feels Alexander stroke her hair back, the bed creaking when he joins them. “May I?” he asks, his hands on her waist, and Angelica merely nods, less than eager to draw back from Eliza, and shifts her hips to help him take off her second petticoat. They leave the rest, and Angelica rolls slightly to the side, rubbing her hand up Eliza’s thigh to her waist through her shift, giving Alexander room to lie on her other side and nuzzle into her neck, to mouth at her breast. Eliza makes the most intoxicating sounds, arching her back and pressing into their touch.

“See how beautiful she is,” Alexander says, Eliza’s black hair fanned out on the pillow behind her head, and Angelica agrees. She finds allowing herself to touch her sister as she wishes, to coax her into making those pleased sounds, rids her of any lingering nerves.

“I’ve heard you know how to make better use of your tongue than just spitting vitriol in the direction of the king,” she says, and loves the surprised arch of Alexander’s eyebrow as his gaze goes to Eliza. Then she says, “Show me how,” and Alexander is smirking before he presses gentle kisses to the insides of Eliza’s thighs, starting where her stockings end and moving ever closer to her center. Eliza very helpfully spreads her legs, inviting him in, giving him better access, and if Angelica had not known already, this would be a clear indication that they do this often.

Alexander clearly loves doing this, holding Eliza’s hips and letting her pull on his hair, rolling his own hips downward into the mattress as he tends to Eliza. Angelica half-watches him in fascination as she sneaks her hand beneath Eliza’s shift, rolling and pinching her nipple, doing it again at Eliza’s sharp gasp. She desperately longs to know how Alexander uses his tongue, how he gets Eliza to make such glorious sounds.

When Alexander’s head is buried between Eliza’s thighs, it is Angelica who swallows her cries, who holds her as she shakes with pleasure until Alexander crawls up to mouth at her belly, to lie at her side smug as a tomcat.

He leans over, not to kiss Eliza but to kiss Angelica, and it should be filthy. It is filthy, but Angelica can taste Eliza on her tongue, heavy and musky, and it makes heat coil in her belly.

“I think,” Eliza says, still faintly breathless, “I think Angelica should also be given intimate knowledge of your abilities, husband.”

Alexander kisses her, wet and open, and says, “Anything you desire, my love. I should like very much to reduce your sister’s sharp tongue to nothing but cries of my name.”

Angelica snorts and says, “You are welcome to make the attempt, Alexander, but you have yet to get the better of me.”

Eliza watches them both with indulgence, one hand tracing random patterns on Angelica’s thigh while the other cards through Alexander’s loose hair. “You may be glad to be proven wrong this time, Angelica.”

Humming noncommittally, Angelica nevertheless feels heat and desire growing at Eliza’s touch, at Alexander’s intense focus. She says, “We’ll see,” and allows Eliza to push her down as Alexander spreads her legs, pushing up her petticoat. She has never felt so exposed, her heart beating rapidly in her chest, but can make no complaint as Eliza licks up her neck and Alexander kneels between her legs and exhales warm breath against her. She shivers, about to rebuke Alexander for the unnecessarily self-satisfied expression he’s wearing, but finds all thought whooshes out of her head when he leans in and brushes his tongue to her.

Angelica tightly grips the bedsheets with her fingers and the truth is… the truth is Angelica may have been eager to tease Eliza but she is the one who knew of this only in theory, who may have read verses to make gentlewomen blush but has never had a man between her legs. Were she not so diverted she might laugh to think that the first man to hold such a place would be her sister’s husband, with her sister in bed beside them.

But she is very, very diverted.

She can barely look at Alexander between her thighs, certain she will make a fool of herself, and clenches her eyes shut. His short beard scratches against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs and she doesn’t understand why she enjoys that so much; surely it will leave a burn but she doesn’t care. Her breath heaves and her stays seem terribly tight. She hardly registers Eliza’s soft, gentle voice saying, “Darling, come, let’s do it this way,” coaxing her up until she is kneeling, Alexander moving aside.

Angelica hopes she doesn’t look stupidly confused as she looks first to Eliza, then to Alexander, who is swiping his tongue over his distractingly wet lower lip. A shudder rushes through her, and she looks to Eliza again.

“You will like this,” Eliza says, very sure of herself, and then gestures. “Alexander.”

Seeming to need no explanation, Alexander lies down on his back. He still looks so annoyingly smug but Angelica can’t seem to be properly bothered about it. His breeches are tented and it makes Angelica flushed and heated to see it.

“Sit like this, my love, over him,” Eliza says, and suddenly Angelica understands.

“Oh,” she says, and wonders how silly she must seem, but neither of her companions give any indication of minding. “Oh.” She gathers her petticoat with sudden concern that Alexander will not be able to breathe as she kneels over him, but he grabs her thighs and pulls her down, rougher than she had anticipated, and all thought goes out of her head as he applies his tongue. He’s… he’s _sucking,_ and Angelica whimpers, breathing gloriously when Eliza loosens her corset.

Eliza kisses the back of her shoulder. “There.”

Angelica cannot recall a time when her mind was not awash with too many thoughts all at once, when her mind was not working and calculating, but with Eliza behind her and Alexander beneath her, she loses all conscious ability to think. She doesn’t think about this means, or where it will leave them when it’s over. She doesn’t worry about whether Alexander actually can breathe, for in truth he seems rather content where he is, holding her to him, or whether Eliza actually is as sure about sharing her husband as she pretended to be. Instead she lets herself feel all of it, Alexander’s fingers gripping her thighs, Alexander’s tongue licking over her then darting to a point and pushing inside her, Eliza’s hot mouth on her skin and soft breasts pressed to her back.

She hears herself moaning their names until they blur together and she can’t hold herself upright any longer, she simply cannot, so she falls forward and braces herself on her elbows, hoping Alexander is not crushed, and feels pleasure roll through her like waves. Eventually she realizes she has been coaxed onto her back and Eliza is holding her, soothingly murmuring into her ear. Alexander has draped himself over them, a little heavy but not unpleasantly so, his hardness evident, though he seems in no rush to tend to it.

“Are you satisfied?” Alexander asks, obviously thinking he is clever for the word choice, and even more obviously thinking he knows the answer.

“At least,” Angelica says, trying very hard to sound level and even, “it occupied your mouth enough to keep you quiet.”

Alexander’s bark of laughter is joyous and he says, “Yes, alright, I know you love to have the upper hand, so I will allow you to pretend you have it still. I might point out, however, that you did cry my name. Several times.”

Eliza rolls her eyes. “He is incorrigible. You must forgive him; we take the bad with the good, don’t we?”

“Luckily his good is very good,” Angelica allows, for she is so relaxed she finds herself inclined to be generous. Alexander angles up to kiss the underside of her chin, and the unexpected tenderness of it makes her smile.

To think she can have this, even if it will only be this once.

Then he shifts, dragging the hard length of him against her, and he groans, and thrusts faintly against her hip. A twinge of aching want throbs through her already, and she says, “He grows impatient.”

“I see,” Eliza says, her voice practically glowing, and she gives Angelica a long, slow kiss that makes the ache grow and Alexander groan again, hips rocking. He slides his hand up beneath Angelica’s petticoat, flicking it over that most sensitive spot she hadn’t known she had before tonight, and she gasps into Eliza’s mouth.

“Eliza,” she says, “Eliza,” and pulls back. “How is it…”

“Oh, quite wonderful,” Eliza says, biting at her lip. “Let us show you.”

And it isn’t exactly what Angelica meant but she can’t make herself object when Alexander pulls off her petticoat and then makes room for Eliza to mouth over Angelica’s breast, when Alexander slides his finger inside her, an odd pressure that gives way to a burst of intensity that makes her whine.

Eliza bites down on Angelica’s collar bone, a sharp hint of teeth, just as Alexander twists his finger inside her, and the sound Angelica makes is yet more embarrassing than before. It is difficult to mind, though, when Eliza kisses her open-mouthed and Alexander continues to prove that his hands are as clever as his tongue. “Show me how you are,” Angelica breathes into Eliza’s mouth, suddenly desperate for it. “Show me how you are together.”

One more kiss and Eliza meets her eyes, evidently surprised, but she says, “If that is what you wish, I won’t protest.”

There is the trace of a small smile on Alexander’s lips and Angelica can’t decipher his expression, but she knows he will certainly make no objection to her request. Above all, they want Eliza to be happy, and she will enjoy this. So will Alexander, obviously, but Angelica knows she will as well.

She wants to see them, and to be a part of it, too.

Alexander draws his hand out from beneath Angelica’s shift, sucking his finger into his mouth as he deliberately holds Angelica’s gaze. The instinct to flush is overcome by exacerbated amusement at his self-certainty. “Maybe we can keep his mouth occupied again as well before he starts prattling on,” she suggests.

“He tends to be quite vocal,” Eliza confirms.

Though she couldn’t say what urge compels her to do so, Angelica leans forward and kisses the finger that has just been in Alexander’s mouth, that was inside her. She watches the bobbing of his throat as he swallows, the darting movement his eyes make. She always likes catching him off-foot but she finds it is still sweeter in this context.

“Angelica,” he says, as she kisses the tip of his finger once more.

She smiles winningly at him. “Let me help you remove your breeches.” She squeezes the hardness in the front of his breeches and he gasps audibly, eyes rolling back in his head. “Ah. Was that not actually helping?”

“You are a monster,” he declares, prompting quiet laughter from Eliza. “Eliza, we let a monster into our bed.”

“Wonderful, isn’t it?” Eliza kisses Angelica before undoing Alexander’s breeches, and both sisters tug them down his slim hips.

Sulkily, he wriggles out of them the rest of the way. “Perhaps all the Schuyler sisters are monsters.”

“Perhaps. You fell right into our trap.”

“You seem quite pleased to stay there,” Angelica adds as she pushes Alexander to his back. He goes easily in spite of his protesting grumbling. She then takes the opportunity to hike Eliza’s shift up her thighs and then over her belly so she may lean in and kiss her soft flesh, feeling the trembling beneath her lips. She pulls it all the way up and off, and Eliza presses to her, kissing her quite thoroughly and grinding into her lap. The sensation makes Angelica’s breath catch before Eliza settles over Alexander’s hips.

Eliza rolls her hips sinuously over Alexander’s shaft and he groans, clutching her waist, his fingertips pressing into her flesh. Her smile is indulgent and she lovingly strokes his dark hair back from his face. “You see? Quite vocal.”

With practiced ease, she takes hold of him, lifting up and sinking down, her eyes closing as she envelops him. They both gasp, and Angelica nearly puts a hand to herself, overwhelmed with the want curling inside her. She watches them move together, Eliza setting the pace, Alexander snapping his hips up to meet her, before he rolls, a squeak escaping Eliza’s lips as she winds up on her back.

He kisses her, then holds his hand to Angelica. “Come,” he says, and Angelica takes his hand. He presses it between himself and Eliza, so Angelica can feel where their bodies join. She bites her lip, feeling Alexander push in and out, and she slides her finger up to see if she can find that spot. Eliza whines, and Angelica can’t hold back her grin. She tries mimicking Alexander’s trick from earlier and flicks her fingertip back and forth.

“Angelica,” Eliza says, half a moan, and reaches her hand up blindly, her fingers catching in Angelica’s hair and then clutching around her arm.

“You’re beautiful,” Angelica says, filled with warmth, and continues the movement of her hand. She looks from her sister to Alexander, sweat shining on his forehead as he thrusts into Eliza. “Both of you.”

Then the two of them are locking gazes, clearly communicating something that Angelica can’t quite figure out. Eliza’s grip on her arm gets tighter and she pulls; Angelica lets herself fall onto her elbow beside her sister, leaning in so Eliza may speak into her ear, soft breath rustling her hair. “Will you let us show you?” she asks, and Angelica shakes her head faintly.

“I don’t know what you mean.” She pinches her two fingers together around that bewitching spot and Eliza exhales sharply against Angelica’s earlobe.

“I… Wait,” Eliza tries again, seemingly losing her words, holding whatever parts of Alexander and Angelica she can reach. A breathy sob falls from her lips and Angelica can feel the way she spasms around Alexander and then relaxes, moaning, eyes closed. “Oh,” she says. “A moment, please.”

Angelica laughs and looks at Alexander, whose dear face expresses clearly how very deep in love he is. He stills the movement of his hips, drawing out so that Eliza makes a tiny sound, and then lies beside them. “Maybe I can finish what my wife ineloquently attempted to explain.”

“As if you say anything but nonsense once you are close,” Eliza manages, her chest still rising and falling obviously as her breathing begins to return to normal.

“Hush,” Alexander replies with evident fondness, the tip of his shaft poking out from beneath his shirt, leaking drips of fluid. He seems content to ignore his state, however, in favor of guiding Angelica onto her back and gently coaxing Eliza on top of her. Eliza rubs against her groin, a small, slick sound in the quiet, and they both gasp.

“If you would be obliged, my dear Angelica,” Alexander continues, “we would like for you to experience more than simply watching. Indeed, we wish for you to be an active participant.”

“Have I not been?” Angelica asks, arching an eyebrow, grinding her hips up so that Eliza breathes out, “Ah!”

She suspects she knows what they mean but she thinks she will enjoy making them say it.

“Too many pretty words, Alexander. You always take too long to arrive at the point,” Eliza says, and then, “let my husband fuck you, sister.”

Want throbs through her and Angelica’s eyes fall shut. She hears Alexander’s delighted laughter.

“You will need to move for me to do so,” he says, “but feel free to take your time. I am enjoying the view, and Angelica seems rather happy as she is.”

“Yes,” Eliza agrees, stroking Angelica’s hair, “but I am in fact a bit too sensitive and won’t mind watching for a while.” As she speaks, she moves off to the side, and Angelica cannot complain overmuch for her weight is soon replaced by Alexander, who lies between her thighs and kisses her sweetly.

Angelica strokes her hand up the back of his neck and reaches for Eliza with the other; her sister squeezes her hand.

“Is this okay?” Alexander whispers against her jaw, and Angelica loves them; she loves them.

She nods and says, “Please, yes,” and feels Alexander shifting position. When he presses in, she whines, for he is much larger than just a single finger, but as he stays still she feels herself relaxing to accommodate him and it is not so bad.

“Can I…?” he says, muscles quivering with the effort of holding himself still, and she nods again, and he pulls out and pushes in, and if it is not quite pleasure, she grows used to the sensation, and the fullness.

Eliza nudges her legs open farther and up, until she is bracketing Alexander between her thighs, and the new position changes the angle he hits within her. Angelica cries out, for it does feel better, and yes, yes, she thinks she understands the blissful pleasure of it. Not just the closeness, but the intensity, and she scrapes her fingernails over the back of Alexander’s neck as he kisses the side of her throat.

Angelica arches up, changing the angle yet again, letting Alexander sheathe himself in deeper, and it makes him gasp her name, half-broken. She has lost her grip on Eliza’s hand and instead slides up beneath Alexander’s shirt to feel the strong muscles of his back, then down over his bottom as he thrusts. Her shift is hiked up near her breasts, the material bunching slightly uncomfortably beneath her back, but it seems like too much work to take it off. Alexander brushes his lips against hers, half a messy kiss, and then turns his head to kiss Eliza.

“You should see yourself,” Eliza murmurs, her lips against the side of Angelica’s face, her hands rubbing patterns on Angelica’s arms, her breasts, her belly. It may be that, her words, or the sensation of her lovely fingers, or the way Alexander hits a spot inside her, but Angelica feels pleasure coursing through her and forgets how to speak, how to think, how to do anything but feel.

Alexander balances his weight on his elbows, his motions stuttering. “I’m very,” he says, and “I wish,” against Angelica’s skin, and then he is sliding out of her. He strokes himself just once, twice, and he spills over Angelica’s belly.

It takes rather longer than it should for Angelica to appreciate the good sense in what he’s done, a belated voice in her head thinking, _oh, yes, of course, for wouldn’t it be awkward if…_ She curses her foolishness, for she should not have relied on Alexander to think of it, but she is glad he had. The Hamiltons have truly knocked her head silly for her to have overlooked something so important.

But Eliza is kissing her again, finally yanking that damned shift off over her head, and there is no need to further dwell on consequences averted. Alexander has taken his shirt off so that he can wipe his seed off Angelica’s skin, and he then throws it somewhere onto the floor. He covers them with a blanket so they are not so exposed to the chill of the winter’s night, now that they have ceased their energetic lovemaking.

“You were right, Eliza,” he says in evident satisfaction, sprawling beneath the blanket beside them. “This would indeed be something worth returning home for.”

Angelica blinks in surprise and then hears Eliza collapse into giggles.

“You are incorrigible, didn’t I say so?” She smacks the front of his shoulder, while Alexander looks on in mock-offence.

“You were the one who suggested it! Did she not, Angelica? Come, defend me against this insult.”

“I cannot,” Angelica says, “for I agree you are incorrigible.” With sudden clarity she understands that they don’t mean for this to be only once, for they love her as much as she loves them. The practical part of herself, which is, indeed, the vast majority of her, wants to remind her of all the reasons it can’t work, but she finds she can quiet that niggling voice with surprising ease.

Alexander huffs, settling himself up for a sulk. “Well, perhaps I won’t return, then.”

Eliza curls against Angelica’s side, draping her arm across her waist and kissing just in front of her ear. The bed is rather small for three, in fact, and it is only sensible they huddle close not only for warmth but so there is no fear of someone toppling over the side. “I think we will manage happily without you.”

“Very happily,” Angelica agrees. She thinks she has never been this happy in her life.

Alexander makes an odd sound that seems to be half jealous, peevish disgruntlement and half lustful interest. “I see.”

“You were wrong, Alexander,” Angelica says, as he turns to watch her expectantly. Eliza’s pulse strums firmly beneath her fingertips as she strokes her sister’s skin. “I can be satisfied.” It isn’t a joke this time, and she knows Alexander knows that, too.

After a moment of silence, Alexander finds her hand and kisses the thin skin of her wrist. “I have never before been glad to be wrong,” he says, and they all lie together until sleep finds them.

**_End_ **

**Author's Note:**

> I'm like 5 years too late for this fandom but anyway, yell at me about Hamilton! I love everyone, I ship everything, LMM is a gift to humanity. I'm serceleste on Tumblr.


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